


Hands of Forever, touch me

by HogwartsToAlexandria



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Banter, Barebacking, Bars and Pubs, Beginnings, Carrying, Dirty Talk, Drinking, First Time, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, One Night Stands, Praise Kink, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Resolved Sexual Tension, Teasing, Undressing, Wandless Magic, except not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:13:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24214972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HogwartsToAlexandria/pseuds/HogwartsToAlexandria
Summary: If either of them cared to be honest about this, they'd probably see how much of a long time coming them finding each other this way is. Neither Draco nor Harry were ever particularly good at introspection though, much less at communicating in such subjects as that of attraction, and feelings. So this way it is, and that's ok."You want a tour or are you going to get your hands on me, Potter?"
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 16
Kudos: 257
Collections: HP Inspired by Imagery Fest - 2020





	Hands of Forever, touch me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [M0stlyVoid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/M0stlyVoid/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Prompt 2 - Sexy Undressing after Play Wrestling](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/620917) by @jittblack. 



> My fic for the gorgeous, gorgeous prompt submitted by Lis, who you can find as bonesliketambourines (tumblr) / M0stlyVoid (Ao3) 😊
> 
> Thank you to B and E for their tireless cheerleading in all this and to B especially for the beta 💚
> 
> And thank you to our amazing mods for bringing such a fun fest to us and working so tirelessly behind the scenes 😘😘😘

They're probably a little drunk. Maybe even pissed, actually. It doesn't make either of them stop. 

Not when they get up from their chairs at the pub. Not when they leave it one after the other under the bemused gazes of their friends. Not when they get into the quickest Muggle bus to arrive and take them back to Draco's new place down in Muggle London. 

They don't touch or even keep close in that bus. They both lean on opposite windows and stare at each other instead. Draco looks fucking delicious in that brown sweater and black skinny jeans, the heavy-duty leather boots are a nice touch too. 

It's not even fair how horny just the sight of the man's pale blond hair - just slightly disheveled as it is now - makes him. Harry bites the inside of his cheeks so he'll keep quiet - not the time for drunk rambling sonnets to the Malfoy beauty. The way Draco looks at him tells him he knows though. The fucker knows how pretty he is. 

The bus stops abruptly once, then twice, and then they're here - the jostle is nothing compared to Knight Buses so they're mostly fine but getting off the vehicle is still a relief. The fresh air gushing around them is just a tad dangerous for Harry's drunk stomach. 

The wind in Draco's coat and hair is worse for his sanity though. 

"Fuck me," Harry curses under his breath, his eyes widening when Draco glances at him, a smug smile tugging at his lips even as he keeps walking. 

"I was thinking the other way around but that can be arranged, too," he says. Damn. Harry didn't even think that far. 

He chokes on his saliva a little bit, but chooses to follow the man without replying. 

Draco's new building is made of bricks that look like they get polished every other day or something, and the hallways of the communal parts are sparkly clean. Harry's not surprised that the same can be said of the inside of the man's apartment. 

Not that he gets to look for too long. 

"You want a tour or are you going to get your hands on me, Potter?" Draco asks, nonchalant as ever as he toes off his shiny Oxfords. 

Harry almost laughs at the biting tone Draco uses to say his name - they've moved past that snotty disdain a long time ago now, years upon years of carefully building trust, and then a solid friendship. Which, this might be the worst idea they could ever have had to conserve said friendship. Harry doesn't want to ask, but he does anyway. He walks further into the apartment, leans on the back of Draco's sofa and flexes his fingers to not jump straight to actually putting his hands on him like he said. 

"Are you sure about this?" He asks, and holds a hand up to interrupt the eyeroll and huff he gets in answer. They're both at least tipsy so he needs to ask, he's slept with enough people in his life to know what regret feels like the morning after drunken rolls in the sheets. "I mean it." 

"Am I sure I want Saint Potter pinning me down to fuck me through the mattress or ride my cock until we both pass out?" Draco pretends to muse, tapping his index finger to his lips - Harry's gaze is immediately drawn to both, the long and pale finger, and the rose, thin lips. "Yup, sounds like I am. Now shut up and move, bedroom's this way."

Harry can't help but grin at that. Once upon a time, he'd have reacted differently, now it's just the right push to get him off the sofa and walking towards Draco, until Draco has no choice but to walk backwards in the express direction he just pointed to. 

"Gonna getcha," Harry smiles and Draco's eyebrow gives a little unimpressed twitch. 

Until his back meets the door Harry assumes leads to his bedroom that is. Then, his expression veils again the same way it had all night long, heated, dark glances following each of Harry's movements, staring when Harry licked beer froth off his lips, glaring when he winked back. 

Harry takes the final step that closes the distance between them, looking up into Draco's eyes as their bodies line up and their erections press into each other. 

He licks his lips as he looks back and forth between Draco's own lips and his darkened eyes before he takes the leap. He slides his hand at the back of Draco's head, slipping his fingers between the soft strands of his hair and brings their mouths together for the first time. Or almost. That time back behind the Quidditch stands at Hogwarts doesn't really count, they were too young, and this feels nothing like it did then. 

This feels like drinking up fresh water on a parched throat and Harry is already moaning as he winds his free arm around Draco’s throat and slips his hand under the fabric of his sweater, searching for skin, and finding the smooth warm expanse of the man’s lower back. Draco keens a little when Harry’s fingers brush the curve of his hip and his back arches. 

Their kissing is both messy and playful, tongues that lick at the inside of their cheeks as much as they tangle together, teeth that nip at bottom lips and straying as far as to graze over Draco’s jaw, or Harry’s goatee. Harry’s fingers stay splayed in Draco’s hair until the man’s little pants that fall directly in his mouth make him crave for more, for closer, for right now. 

“Arms around my shoulders, Draco,” he whispers, his voice hoarse as his hands grip the back of the man’s thighs, and pulls him up against his chest the second he follows through. They both gasp when Draco loops his legs around his waist and Harry keeps steady hands under Draco’s arse, supporting some of his friend’s weight on the door. That is, until he huffs and winds an arm around Draco’s back and asks again, “Open the door?”

Draco doesn’t reply other than by turning the doorknob and pulling Harry’s mouth back to his with a harsh yank on his hair. 

Harry carefully kneels on the bed, letting Draco plant his feet on either side of him as they keep kissing, dirty drags of their mouths against each other. The more they kiss, the more Harry's need to feel Draco's skin becomes prevalent. His hands get to roaming up and down his friend's back, sliding right under his sweater, greedy in their ascent. 

"You should fuck me," Draco says, grinning at the little gasp Harry can't help but let out at that. "You should fuck me hard, Potter," 

Harry bites his lip just hearing the words, he's so incredibly hard under his jeans it's not even fair, and that Draco should be the reason why both boggles and amazes him. If he had any presence of mind left after this, he'd probably see all their friends rolling their eyes at them because they probably knew this would happen some time. For now though, he just groans inwardly when Draco bites his shoulder through his tee-shirt next, and he chokes a little when the man traces the wet mark that's formed on the gray fabric once he draws back. That feels sexier than it has any right to. 

Harry briefly tightens his hold on Draco's body before releasing him and mouthing at his neck. 

"Can you lay back?" He says, and he sounds so hoarse, it's almost embarrassing. Or it would be, if Draco wasn't sporting the most uncharacteristic pink blush at the same time.

Draco nods against his cheek and Harry helps him down, floored by how beautiful the man is splayed out like this, his legs still boxing him in and his chest rising and falling faster than normal. 

"Are you going to stare at me all night Potter, or...?" Draco raises an eyebrow at him - arsehole knows too, how pretty he looks when he's being disdainful. But Harry knows him too much by now to not understand that this is all pretense. 

"I'm not in any rush, no," Harry smiles at him. 

He puts his hands at the hem of Draco's shirt winking at him before finally allowing himself to explore his former nemesis' body. He rucks up the sweater as he spans Draco's chest with open palms and searching fingers, broad motions going over his toned stomach and skating up his chest, smirking when Draco's breathing hitches when the tips of his fingers tease at his nipples. 

Draco's erection strains his jeans and in turns presses into his stomach and it spurs Harry on to continue. He holds his friend's sweater up to his shoulder and rakes his free hand down to his navel, following it with his gaze and humming at the way Draco arches into his touch. The room feels heavy with want, Harry's blood pounding in his ears and his loins on fire as he can't help bucking against the promised heat of Draco's body. 

It becomes too much quickly enough and where his hand had been holding Draco's sweater out of the way, Harry slides it to the back of the man's head again and leans down to kiss him. 

They rut against each other with deep groans and lighter keens of need, hands going wild and jumping from places to places with more and more urgency. Harry grins when Draco finally snaps and pushes him down so he's the one laying on his back and takes off his clothes next. He throws the beloved sweater across the room and shimmies out of his jeans and pants and socks in record time, his hair delightfully out of sorts. 

"Lose yours before I make them vanish," Draco growls when Harry keeps simply staring at him. 

Harry gives him a fake startled look, keeping their gazes locked as he nonchalantly whirls his wrist in the hair and does just that, wandlessly vanishing his clothes away. 

“Smug arsehole,” Draco gives a short, exasperated laugh. 

“You don’t actually mind that though,” Harry whispers, sitting up just long enough to pull Draco until he’s hovering over him, naked, and then he lays back, and takes Draco with him. “I think you don’t mind it at all, really.” 

“Wishful thinking, Potter,” Draco replies, but his lips quickly become busy sliding over Harry’s again, and the sensation of having Draco on top of him like this, their bodies touching almost everywhere, proves too distracting for him to keep the banter going. 

He goes from holding on to Draco’s shoulders to sliding his hands down his sides, enjoying the smoothness of his skin and the thin hair that tickles his palms on the way. Emboldened by arousal, and the familiarity that comes with the man on top of him being Draco, of all people, Harry slides his hands down further, until he’s holding onto both his arse cheeks. He starts kneading at them, enjoying how powerful they feel as Draco flexes reflexively and moans against his mouth. 

“You’re so pretty,” Harry breathes when Draco moves up again to grind their cocks, heavy and hot, against one another. 

Draco throws his head back, the blush on his cheeks deepening and rather than file that information away for later, he decides to press it further. 

He pulls at one of Draco’s cheeks to skirt a finger down his crack, watches his face as he eventually gets to tracing the man’s rim gently and whispering, “So beautiful, Draco, look at you.”

The heavy sigh and the way Draco pushes back against his prodding finger comes to prove Harry right and he grins. He brings his hand around and presents two fingers to the man’s lips, biting his own a little more harshly at the hooded gaze he’s presented with. The blur of his previous inebriation is all but gone, replaced with a daze that has nothing to do with what he’s drunk, and everything to do with how mad with desire Draco’s making him. 

“Make them wet for me?”

Draco sticks the tip of his tongue out first, flicking at the pads of Harry’s fingers while looking directly into his eyes like a proper tease before he stops playing around and sucks them into his mouth. The way it feels, having Draco’s tongue dancing around his fingers, saliva pooling around them and sparking jolts of pleasure down Harry’s spine, is definitely working for Harry. 

Draco winks at him as he releases the fingers and gets down again, holding himself up with his arms on either side of Harry’s head and arching his back to present his arse more. 

“Touch me, Harry,” he asks, his mouth staying slightly open, and opening even wider when Harry complies immediately. 

He circles Draco’s rim, adding pressure as the man relaxes and pushing in just the tip as Draco pushes him in. 

“Your mouth, come on, kiss me,” Harry moans as his arousal spikes up with the feeling of the searing heat that is the inside of Draco’s body. 

When Draco does so, Harry reaches down to take a hold of their cocks and starts jerking them off very slowly, just edging them both on as his fingers finally slip into Draco all the way. The saliva quickly becomes not enough, drying too fast and once again, he uses wandless magic to take care of it. Draco squeals in a less than dignified pitch when he feels the cool lube that spreads around Harry’s finger inside him. But then he’s groaning so hard in Harry’s neck, and fucking himself on Harry’s finger as Harry starts thrusting in and out of him gently. 

They’re both wound up so tight, Harry briefly wonders if they won’t be coming before anybody gets to fuck anyone hard like Draco asked him. 

“More, more please,” Draco whines when Harry’s pace gets harder and he tries to tug gently at his rim to relax it every time he pulls out. 

Harry tilts his chin up to catch Draco’s lips again even as he smiles.

“Asked so nicely, I don’t see how I could deny you,” he says and he’s so oddly touched by the way Draco doesn’t even seem capable of rolling his eyes at him anymore, just canting his hips against his own so Harry’s fist will go back to caressing both their shafts in time, and then back to chase after his finger. 

Harry teases the tip of a second finger against Draco’s rim, slightly picking up the pace on their cocks as it slides into his hole, and moaning when Draco does, too. 

It goes faster from there. Draco gets looser, moans louder, moves faster, and Harry’s about ready to whimper by the time Draco pushes his hands away to kneel over his lap, and take Harry’s cock in hand, and line them up. The way he looks as he sinks down is utterly sinful. His eyes screwed shut, flushed and gasping, his mouth open and his bottom lip jutting wet and looking more entrancing than ever, his long lithe chest straight as a bow and his thighs flexing under Harry's hands. Bloody hell. 

Harry squeezes Draco's flesh to try and keep still as he adjusts to the intrusion, watching his face with rapture the entire time. 

And then Draco starts moving slowly up and down his cock, pushing it in slack-jawed and raising again with breathy little pants leaving his lips. Until he opens his eyes in a start and hooks their gazes together, and starts moaning for real as he picks up the pace. 

His legs tremble as he puts his hands on Harry's chest for support and Harry bends his legs behind him for leverage.

"Oh yes, oh fuck," Draco hisses when Harry finally moves as well. "Come on, harder, fuck me, Harry, please, oh Merlin."

Harry smiles as he fucks up into Draco, his arms finally able to go back to winding around the man and plastering him to his chest, one hand in his hair and the other in the small of his back as he sets a different, harder rhythm and Draco starts drooling and babbling in his neck.

"Feel so good," Harry hears himself grunting, his hips burning with the need that rises even stronger inside him.

Everything feels hot, they're sweaty and the only noises in the room are that of their skin slapping together harder and harder. Nothing exists, but the way Draco's body invites him in so greedily, and the way Harry's mind swims in everything that is Draco on top of him, the feeling of Draco's arms around his neck and shoulder, the texture of Draco's hair under his fingers, and this suddenly feels more like an evidence than he's ever imagined.

"M'so close," Draco pants in his ear, his cock leaking in agreement between their stomachs and his lips more ravenous even than before when they take Harry's mouth in a kiss that's more tongue and despair than anything else.

Harry fucks him even harder, groans even louder, his thighs start to tremble. He lets go of Draco's hair in favor of placing both his hands on the man's arse and pushes and pulls and pushes him again, back and forth in time with his thrusts.

They come panting in each other's mouth, a line of drool connecting their lips and their gazes lost in each other. But their eyes fall closed with the aftershocks of their respective orgasms, sticky spend flooding Harry's belly and chest and smearing over Draco's as well when he drops, completely boneless over him. It's bliss, coursing through Harry's veins, and not even the sweat, or come, or excessive heat that stems from their embrace can make him ever want to move.

They don't. They stay like this for what could be hours - it probably isn't, but Harry doesn't give it a second thought. Not when they're lazily kissing and nipping at any one inch of skin that's reachable. Not when Draco is tracing his scar under his sweat-laden fringe of hair with half-hearted interest. Not when he finally slips out of him without them doing anything for it, his dick soft and his heart content. 

It's better than the earlier alcohol-induced buzz, it's better than probably any shag Harry's ever had and he doesn't really know why, nor is he actually interested in investigating it just now. 

Eventually, Draco rolls off him and a spell is cast to clean them off excessive fluids. The covers are drawn back and they're asleep without either of them saying a word, nor bothering to pretend they're not ok with being tangled up still.

It's the best night Harry's had in a long while, and if he's not sure what the morning brings when he blinks his eyes open with the first light that invades the room, the sight of Draco's face, peaceful in sleep and so utterly beautiful puts his mind to rest. They've come such a long way, both separately and in regards to each other. They'll figure it out. 

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of the 2020 HP Inspired by Imagery Fest, an on-going anonymous fest. Authors will be revealed once all works are posted.
> 
> Comments and kudos are hugely appreciated.


End file.
